


beside the still waters

by chajatta



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chajatta/pseuds/chajatta
Summary: It’s a familiar position, kneeling here like this. Ellie probably spends more time in the graveyard than anywhere else in Jackson, but it’s like a compulsion, her feet treading the same path almost without thought.We stick together,Ellie remembers saying, once, and it’s a mindset she can’t bring herself to break from, even now.
Relationships: Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	beside the still waters

**Author's Note:**

> I cried the entire time I was writing this

“-and then Dr Daniela stands at the helm of her ship, as de facto leader of the Last Watch,” Ellie says as she closes the comic with a snap. “It’s a pretty satisfying ending, right?” 

A sudden, cold gust of wind is the only answer she gets, whistling up through the trees and shaking old snowfall from their bare boughs. Ellie sighs and stretches her feet out in front of her, digging her heels into the ground. It’s hard with frost but some snow seeps in through the canvas of her sneakers, soaking her socks. Ellie doesn’t mind. The ass of her jeans soaked through hours ago. 

“Did you know they’d started publishing a sequel, right before Outbreak Day?” Ellie asks. “Savage Starlight: Enormous Impact. I had dinner with Tommy the other night and he gave it to me. Said he’d seen one of the guys with it after he came back from a long patrol and traded for it.” The corner of Ellie’s lip quirks, fond. “I haven’t read it yet, obviously. I was thinking I’d bring it down soon and we’ll read it together.” 

There’s no response. Ellie knows there won’t be, but the quiet hurts all the same, more than the cold ever could. Still she just tucks the comic book into the side pocket of her backpack and then resettles on her knees, letting the chill hit there, instead. It’s a small price to pay for the way it lets her shuffle closer to Joel’s grave.

It’s a familiar position, kneeling here like this. Ellie probably spends more time in the graveyard than anywhere else in Jackson, but it’s like a compulsion, her feet treading the same path almost without thought. _We stick together,_ Ellie remembers saying, once, and it’s a mindset she can’t bring herself to break from, even now. 

“They think I spend too much time here, you know,” Ellie says, after a beat. “I’ve heard people gossiping. Jackson’s only so big and every asshole here thinks they have a right to everyone else’s business.” She’s too young to be throwing her life away to such grief, spending so much time on her knees in a graveyard isn’t good for her. Joke’s on them, because Ellie has never done anything that’s good for her; like it would matter, even if she did. As if going into town and pretending that everything’s okay would make Ellie want to dig through the dirt with her bare hands and lie down in the dark next to Joel any less. 

“I heard that fucker Max telling Seth that it’s been too long, that I need to get over it.” Ellie wraps her arms tight around her torso, squeezes hard. She wants to feel the discomfort of it. “I wanted to march right over there and stab him in the fucking kidney,” Ellie says. She’d been furious at the time and the heat of that rage still simmers in her stomach. 

“Like it’s that easy,” she says after a moment, her voice softer now. “As if I’m just gonna wake up one morning and not give a shit that you’re gone. What a jackass.” 

Ellie uncurls herself and shifts forward, uses her hands to brush some fallen snow off the bottom of the headstone. She isn’t wearing gloves and she should probably be worried about frostbite, all things considered, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore, not the way it used to. 

Everyone in this world has experienced loss. Ellie is certainly no stranger to it herself, not after everything that happened with her parents, and Riley, Henry and Sam. Marlene. The names sit heavy on her tongue, dry as ash, but Joel? Joel is a hurt so deep and so raw that Ellie still doesn’t know how she’s supposed to bear it. 

How is she supposed to keep living in this town when every day reminds her of exactly what she’s lost? When every pitying look, every scornful whisper, makes her want to lash out, to run, to scream and scream until her throat tears and yet more of her blood hits the earth. 

There are always fresh flowers on the base of Joel’s grave. Ellie doesn’t know who keeps bringing them, because she sure as fuck doesn’t, and the sight of them makes her rage, sometimes. Because what can flowers do? How can bouquets measure up against a man’s life and the weight of his absence? 

Ellie leans across and fingers one of the petals. She squeezes it between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the soft brush of velvet, and understands the sentiment. Ellie understands the sentiment behind a lot of things, now. 

“I know it’s too late,” Ellie starts, hushed. Her breath fogs in the cold, little white crystals spiralling up between her lips. “But I get it, what you did. To the Fireflies.” There’s a tightness in her throat, an old anger that she’s finally learning to let go. Some regrets, Ellie knows, will never leave her. That will linger, unhealed and festering, like this fucking bite on her arm. It’s too late to make amends for them, but the least she can do is try with this. Just like she’d promised. 

“I just-” Ellie lets go of the flower and touches her hand to the gravestone, feels the smooth stone against her skin, the absence of her missing fingers. “I need you to know that I forgive you.” 

It’s what she wishes she’d told him in life. What she wishes she hadn’t spent two years stubbornly refusing to do. Ellie still believes in her reasons, but it’s hard to look back on that time now and not feeling the gnawing, aching pain of wasted opportunity. 

She sits, with her hand still on the grave, body motionless. It’s easier to give Joel her time like this, neither of them speaking, just the sound of the wind and the brief, trilling whistle of a songbird overhead. 

When Ellie finally lifts her head, her cheeks are bitten red. 

“I better go,” she says. She takes her hand back, tucks it beneath her armpit. It feels numb. “I’ve got JJ for an hour later. I’m going to get a horse and take him around town.” Dina won’t be joining them, but even this little kindness, allowing Ellie to still be a part of JJ’s life, is far more than Ellie knows she deserves. She’s pathetically grateful for it.

The snow crunches under her feet when Ellie finally stands, feeling the wet patch in her jeans. She brushes herself off, zips her coat all the way up to her throat. 

Leaving is always the hardest part. Ellie dithers for a moment, then touches her other hand to the top of the gravestone. “I’ll come by again soon, okay?” There’s no answer. Ellie knows there never will be again, she just doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to accept it. 

“I miss you, Joel,” Ellie finally says, before taking her hand away. She stuffs them both into her pocket, blinks back the few tears that well up. The songbird trills and Ellie turns away, the weight of her grief pressing her down into the cold, hard earth.


End file.
